


Not With a Bang But With a Sex Scarf

by cheshirecat101



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Apartment AU, Derek Hale and Isaac Lahey, Derek and Issac are Roommates, Derek and Stiles are Neighbors, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Scisaac - Freeform, Scott and Stiles are Roommates, Tumblr Prompt, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:06:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3620922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecat101/pseuds/cheshirecat101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Scott are roommates and Scott kicks Stiles out one night so he can get some action. Late at night, the only place Stiles can think to take refuge is with his rather intimidating neighbor, Derek Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not With a Bang But With a Sex Scarf

**Author's Note:**

> Man, so, if you follow me as an author for my Hannibal and/or Sherlock fics, I'm sorry, I had to take a detour into Teen Wolf. Sterek is my friend's OTP and this was too good to pass up. The prompt comes from [this](http://disassociatedtinman.tumblr.com/post/113626116611/please-consider) prompts list on tumblr, which is pretty brilliant all around. So I hope you enjoy! Friendly reminder that I do commissions, if you're interested please email me at the address listed on my profile. <3

“Heyyyy, buddy…”

This had been a terrible idea. Well, to be fair, it’d been the only idea that Stiles had had, the only thing that had made sense at the time when his sleep-deprived brain had had to think quickly. Because it wasn’t like Scott could have given him a warning that he was going to need the apartment to himself—oh no, that would have been too helpful. Instead he rushed in when Stiles was already asleep and shook him awake, saying that he had to get out because this was it, he was finally going to score with the hot guy from down the hall who he kept talking to in the laundry room.

“But what does that have to do with me?” Stiles had demanded to know in a sleep-worn voice as Scott steadily shoved him out of the apartment, shoes in his hands.

“I need the place, duh,” Scott had answered, giving him a final push into the hallway and tossing his key at him, which nearly hit him in the face. “Just come back tomorrow morning. Come on, he’ll be here in like five minutes.”

Less than that, actually, as Stiles had passed the hot guy in question, Isaac, in the hallway on his way out and Isaac’s way in. “Have fun,” he’d said with a small, sarcastic smile, but Isaac had only smiled vaguely in his direction before continuing to the apartment. Stiles heard the door open, Scott saying something, and glanced back in time to see it shut again. Shit. Now where was he supposed to go? It was too late to call anyone, and most likely no one would have any room anyway. The only place he knew would have an empty bed was—

No, that was a terrible idea. There was no way it was going to work, it would probably end in disaster and humiliation, and yet he found himself walking up to apartment 3C and knocking on the door. He rocked back on his heels as he waited, glancing down the hallway towards his own apartment door, behind which he could hear music beginning to play, and nearly snorted. Good, let Scott have to deal with a noise complaint this time. Though the person that usually complained was the person who was just now opening the door, fierce blue eyes slightly— _slightly_ —dulled by sleep as they fixed onto Stiles.

“Heyyyy, buddy…” Stiles said, and gave the tenant a bright smile, which only seemed to make the intensity of the other man’s glower increase. “It’s Derren, right? Listen—”

“Derek.”

Stiles nearly squeaked at the growl that came out of the man’s mouth, low and deep and good god had he forgotten just how intimidating this guy was, even though this was the first time that they’d ever really ‘talked’. Stiles had said hi in the hallways and stuff, tried to start up a conversation a few times, but he’d simply been glared back into silence again. Until now, he hadn’t had a reason to really pursue it. Until now, when he felt that he had already made a terrible mistake.

“Uh, right, yeah, Derek. Sorry,” he said, nearly tripping over his own tongue as he hastened to get the words out. “Derek. Right. Um, listen, Derek—” okay, he’d said the name three times now, that was enough, he had to get his shit together “—you don’t really know me, I’m Stiles, from down the hall?” He pointed in the general direction, but Derek’s eyes didn’t budge from his face. Great. Stiles swallowed whatever he’d been about to say, choking on it for a second before he managed to spit out, “Your roommate is kind of currently doing it with my roommate, so I got kicked out of the apartment.”

Derek didn’t say anything for a minute, seeming to measure up Stiles, who swallowed thickly. “Isaac?” he finally said, and Stiles nodded quickly. “So that’s where he went with his sex scarf on.”

“I’m…not really sure what that is, nor do I want to know,” Stiles said, when Derek seemed about to explain it. He really didn’t need to think about the difference between a sex scarf and a regular scarf, or how a sex scarf could be used, especially on his best friend—

He made an incomprehensible noise, putting out his tongue as he shook his head, and Derek gave him a look. “Sorry, I was just—thinking about the differences between…you know what, never mind, it’s not important,” Stiles said, waving a dismissive hand as Derek looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Um, anyway. I was hoping that I could maybe crash with you tonight? I—don’t really have anywhere else to go, not this late, and obviously I can’t go back to my place and I figured you’d have a bed open but I mean if you can’t that’s cool I’m sure I can figure something out—”

“You can.” Derek swiftly cut him off with the words, stopping the seemingly ceaseless flow of words from Stiles’s mouth, which snapped shut instantly. “As long as you shut up.”

Stiles almost immediately opened his mouth to answer but shut it again at a single look from Derek, simply nodding as he stepped into the apartment, Derek stepping aside to let him in. Stiles ducked his head as he went past him, keeping as far to the opposite side of the doorway as he could, but Derek still took up most of the space, and Stiles was almost sure that his heartbeat was audible at this point. There was something about Derek that just intimidated him, got his heart racing and made his palms start to sweat and shake. Well, maybe it wasn’t entirely intimidation. There was always the chance that—no, that was ridiculous. He shook his head slightly, unconsciously as he stepped into the apartment, not noticing the look from Derek. No, there was no way. He was just tired, he’d feel better after a good night’s sleep.

“So, ah. Where can I sleep?” he asked, turning to face Derek as Derek shut the door after them both. He took the opportunity while those piercing blue eyes were turned away from him to look Derek over, let his eyes run up his form, surely just to measure him up. That was all. Maybe he was planning on working out soon and using Derek for inspiration. Yeah, that was it. His eyes were back up to the level of Derek’s when Derek turned around, and the older man didn’t seem any more pleased than he had when he answered the door. Then again, he couldn’t recall ever having seen Derek with a smile on his face, or really any other expression than the one he was wearing now. That ‘you just woke me up from my nap and now I’m a grouchy bear’ expression. It was almost cute, in a way.

No, wait, that was definitely not cute. Tired. Right. Stiles was so tired. Getting a place to sleep was imperative right now, not thinking about Derek’s blue eyes and what they’d look like if he actually looked goddamn happy for once. “So…” he started, realizing that Derek hadn’t answered the question, and Derek seemed to remember that Stiles wasn’t just there to be glared at.

“Couch,” he said, pointing to the small living area behind Stiles, who glanced behind himself to see the threadbare couch that Derek was indicating.

“Oh come on, I can’t take a bed?” Stiles asked, turning back to look at Derek, who raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, like I’m going to just let you into my roommate’s room and let you sleep in his bed. For all I know you and your friend could be working together to rob us and he’s distracting Isaac while you come in here with your Bambi eyes and rob us blind.”

“W—you think I have Bambi eyes?” Stiles asked, brow furrowed in confusion, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“What I’m saying,” he said, making sure his voice was clear, even, firm, “is that I don’t trust you. So you can stay on the couch, but if I find you snooping around, you’re going right out into the hallway.”

He left it at that, turning and disappearing into another room, the door shutting sharply behind him, not quite a slam, followed by the sound of a lock clicking. Stiles remained where he was for a minute, confused, and then hesitantly went over to the couch, repeating softly in disbelief to himself, “Bambi eyes!”

He kicked off his shoes, lying down on the couch and stretching out as much as he could, despite the fact that the ‘couch’ was really a loveseat and his legs dangled over the end of it. There was absolutely no way he was going to be comfortable on this couch, and sleep was entirely out of the question. Maybe he’d get lucky and just pass out from exhaustion at some point, in time to catch an hour or two, at most. Or maybe he could just go whine until Derek let him sleep in Isaac’s room. Or…wherever…no, no, no, he wasn’t going to think about that. He wasn’t interested in Derek like that. For god’s sake, the man had the personality of spoiled yogurt. Or a sort of grumpy and malcontented wolf that lived without a pack and was happier that way. Either way, it wasn’t something to be attracted to. And he wasn’t. At all. Right.

He huffed a sigh from where he lay on the couch, looking up at the ceiling in the dim light afforded by the streetlights shining through the shades over the living room windows. This sucked. The only reason he was here in the first place was that Scott had finally managed to get some, something that Stiles wouldn’t admit he was envious of. Not that he was jealous of Scott for bagging Isaac; no, Isaac was a bit too baby-faced for his taste, looked too sweet and innocent despite Scott’s assurances that he was anything but. It was still the look that mattered, and Stiles wasn’t interested in Isaac’s. But if that was what Scott was into, great for him. He just wished that it didn’t mean that he had to take refuge with Derek, who clearly wasn’t pleased to have him here and had made it obvious that he didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him, though Stiles had a feeling that was pretty far. It begged the question, though, of if the situation were reversed, and Isaac kicked Derek out—not that he thought Isaac would ever have the nerve to do it, Stiles certainly wouldn’t if Derek was his roommate, god forbid—if Stiles would have let Derek in to stay.

But he already knew the answer to that, didn’t he? He knew that he would have, that he even would have let Derek sleep in a bed, rather than on the shitty couch that he and Scott had found sitting on the curb one day. _He_ would have been nice enough to trust Derek not to rob them blind, but apparently Derek had some trust issues that he needed to work through, and was projecting them onto Stiles as soon as Stiles came into the apartment. Well, fine, whatever. If Derek wanted to be paranoid, he could be paranoid. Stiles would just have to deal with sleeping on this tiny couch.

He curled in on himself, crossing his arms against his chest as he tried to conserve his body heat, the apartment heated, but not quite enough. He’d left his hoodie in his room, and though he had his pillow—which at least meant that sleep was a possibility—he didn’t have any blankets and couldn’t find one when he briefly turned to look around the living area. Nope, nada. So he’d just have to curl up with himself, curl in around his pillow, knees drawn up to his chest as he tried to keep himself warm enough to sleep. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. He closed his eyes anyway, exhaling slowly as he focused on himself and his body, willing himself to be warm, when something soft and cozy was draped over him.

He opened his eyes and nearly fell off the couch; Derek was standing above him, looking down at him, those blue eyes just as intimidating even in the half-light of the room. Stiles was now covered in a fuzzy yellow blanket, which he had to assume Derek had draped over him, the gesture surprisingly sweet. Neither of them said anything for a minute, simply looking at each other in the darkness of the room, and surprisingly enough, Derek was the first to look away, shifting where he stood.

“I noticed that you didn’t have a blanket with you and I know there aren’t any out here, so,” he said, and Stiles nodded, though Derek’s eyes weren’t on him still.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said softly, voice in that sort of hush that came with speaking in darkened rooms, no matter the circumstances of the conversation. It was a contrast to the way that they’d spoken at the door, the gruff exterior that Derek had put forth and still was putting forth, to some extent. It just seemed that he had gotten a touch—just a touch, mind you—softer, a little less rough around the edges. Or maybe Stiles was just seeing him the way that he wanted to. A little friendlier, a little more open. Maybe even…nice? Did he even dare to think that word? Definitely not say it aloud, no. He’d leave it at a simple thank you.

Only Stiles had never been good at keeping his mouth shut. “And thanks for letting me stay, you know. I don’t think I said it before.”

Derek grunted, what might have been an agreement but Stiles really wasn’t sure. It could have been anything, quite honestly, but he chose to accept it as acknowledgement of his words. After a minute that was confirmed as Derek said, “Yeah, you’re welcome. Get some sleep.”

With that, he was gone again, leaving behind the blanket that Stiles was currently snuggled under, and Stiles heard the door shut, but no turn of the lock this time. That was interesting. Maybe Derek didn’t distrust him as much as he had initially seemed to imply. Or maybe he was just confident enough to know that if Stiles did try anything, he could very easily take care of it. That much was definitely true. Stiles was pretty damn scrawny, and Derek was—well, Derek was made of muscle, created to hurt and destroy if he so chose. Though Stiles had a feeling he didn’t choose that most often.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he turned back to face the back of the couch, snuggling up underneath the blanket that Derek had so thoughtfully provided. Maybe he’d thought Stiles was asleep when he brought it in, and that was why he’d looked almost slightly embarrassed at being caught doing it. Yeah, that was probably it. He’d taken a risk, hoping that Stiles would be asleep, and had been disappointed and slightly embarrassed when he was instead wide awake and nearly shivering on the couch. Well, it didn’t really matter, anyway. The gesture had been nice, and Stiles had needed it. And now he actually had a chance at sleep, though it was still distant, the unfamiliar setting combined with the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements making it difficult for him to get settled in. After a little while, however, his exhaustion got the best of him, and he slipped off to sleep, curling deeper in towards the couch.

***

Humming. That was…was he hearing that right? Was that humming? It sounded like it, but that wasn’t right. Scott didn’t hum often, and besides, that didn’t sound like Scott’s voice. It was deeper, huskier, a bit more intense, and this didn’t feel like his bed either. _Oh_. Right. Okay, never mind, he knew where he was again. Meaning that that was…Derek humming? No, that couldn’t be right. Derek would never hum. That usually indicated being in a good mood, and Derek just didn’t have those, right? He was entirely made of grouchiness and prickly barbs? Well, maybe not entirely, but Stiles doubted that the man was secretly a giant teddy bear on the inside just waiting to be hugged by some overenthusiastic child. Or adult. Either way, that bear was not getting hugged. Not when he was more grizzly than teddy.

His eyes slipped open slowly, dancing around the cracked ceiling for a moment as he listened, brow furrowing over cinnamon eyes. Yeah, that was definitely humming, and it was definitely coming from the kitchen to his right. He turned his head on instinct to see, but of course found his vision blocked by the couch that he was still lying on. Right. Good going, there, Stiles. Muttering something to himself under his breath, he cautiously sat up, just enough to poke his head up over the back of the couch. Sure enough, there was Derek in the kitchen, moving around as he cooked—well, something, anyway, though Stiles wasn’t sure what, and definitely humming to himself. How strange. It was like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs, and Stiles was so absorbed in watching and listening that he didn’t realize he was slipping off the couch until it was too late and he fell off with an exclamation.

There was the sound of feet running over the wooden floor and then Derek was by him, Stiles instantly trying to sit himself up, mortified at being caught on the floor like this. But he was all tangled up in the blanket and Derek had to help him untangle himself, much to his embarrassment. Finally he was free and could sit up, which he did, though Derek had a hand on his back, brow furrowed over blue eyes in an expression that Stiles could have sworn was a relative of concern. Though Derek? Concerned over him? Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Or something.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, and Stiles pretended that there wasn’t any concern in his voice.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled in return, looking down at the blanket that they’d just managed to untangle him from, thanking his lucky stars that he was so used to being embarrassed that he didn’t even flush anymore, just kind of accepted that it was happening. Though what did that really say about him?

“Is there a reason you fell off the couch, or did you just decide to go for a swim on the floor?” Derek asked, and Stiles coughed, choking a bit on the fact that Derek apparently did actually have a sense of humor. He risked a glance at Derek’s face and found a hint of amusement there, which was simultaneously embarrassing and reassuring.

“Oh, yeah, you know me. Love to get my daily exercise on the floor. Just, you know, back stroke and breast stroke and…doggy paddle…” He was rambling, he realized that, and abruptly shut himself up, though he could have sworn he saw a flash of a smile on Derek’s lips before it disappeared again, stoicism taking its place. Derek stood after a moment, offering his hand to Stiles, who accepted, letting himself get pulled to his feet though he nearly tripped on the blanket around his ankles. He picked that up a moment later, as soon as he’d released Derek’s hand, tossing the blanket back onto the couch.

“Breakfast,” Derek said, heading back into the kitchen, and Stiles abruptly realized that the older man wasn’t wearing a shirt, a unique tattoo design visible in between his shoulder blades, three spirals attached to each other in a sort of triangle. He realized that he was staring and tore his eyes away, damn lucky that Derek hadn’t caught him at it, transfixed by the sight of Derek’s muscles as they moved and shifted on his back. Right. Breakfast.

“Ah, you don’t have to do that,” Stiles said as he followed Derek into the tiny kitchen, rubbing a hand over his hair. “You can just give me some coffee and send me on my way, if you want. I mean, Isaac’s gotta be coming back soon, right?”

“Probably not. He’s a cuddler,” Derek said shortly, and Stiles made a slight face at this information that he didn’t quite manage to smooth over in time before Derek turned around to look at him. Derek seemed amused by it, as quickly as Stiles tried to go back to that careful neutral he’d never quite perfected that Derek had down pat. “Honestly, my guess is he’ll try to spend as much time as possible over there. You’re better off staying here until he comes back so you don’t ruin a moment.”

“A mom—” The implication of what Derek meant hit him mid-word and Stiles didn’t bother trying to hide the face he was making this time, sticking his tongue out a bit in disgust at the very thought. He really did not need to think about Scott getting it on with Isaac, especially not in other areas of the apartment—

“Ahhh, god!” Derek turned to look at him after the exclamation, as Stiles made a noise and shook his head, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as if he could bleach away the images he’d just seen. “I hope they bleach whatever surface they use…”

Derek snorted softly, the closest thing to a laugh Stiles had ever heard from him. “Yeah, good luck with that,” he said, turning back to the stove and using a spatula to flip over an egg in the pan. “From what I could tell, Isaac’s been pining after your friend for quite a while now, so he’ll probably make the most of the situation in case it’s a onetime thing.”

“It won’t be,” Stiles said a bit darkly, almost ominously. Like he was delivering bad news. “Scott’s been obsessed with him ever since he first bumped into him in the laundry room. You should have seen his face when he was kicking me out of the apartment so they could get it on. Looks like you and I will be spending a lot of quality time together, buddy,” he said, clapping Derek on the back.

The look that Derek gave him was enough to get him to immediately remove his hand, holding up both of them in surrender, and Derek turned back to the pan, sliding the egg off onto a plate. He handed that plate to Stiles a moment later, which also had toast and some bacon on it, and Stiles looked down at it, not bothering to disguise his hunger. Derek picked up his own plate, acknowledging Stiles’s, “Thanks,” with silence as he headed towards the living room to sit on the couch.  Stiles was kind of at a loss for what to do for a moment before he trailed after Derek, sitting down next to him on the couch—loveseat—and finding that they were suddenly in very close proximity to each other because of how small the couch was. He tried to brush it off, focusing on his food as Derek turned on the news, but their knees were nearly brushing and he found that his heart was suddenly beating much faster in his chest.

They both ate in silence for a few minutes, Stiles distractedly trying to focus on his food and the news rather than the heat he could feel coming off of Derek’s body, before he started, “So…”

Derek turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow, and Stiles swallowed thickly, trying to not be intimidated by those fearsome blue eyes, always intense, even in a casual situation like this. “What do you do for a living?” he asked somewhat lamely, unsure of where he’d originally been taking the sentence but knowing that he now had to say something because he’d started a conversation and couldn’t just leave it hanging.

“Work,” Derek answered, and took a bite out of a piece of bacon in a way that must have been meant to intimidate Stiles from any further conversation because there was really no need to be that rough while eating a piece of meat.

Stiles nodded, dipping his head a few times as he awkwardly looked down at his plate instead of at Derek. “Work…that’s um, that’s cool, I guess,” he said, and his eyes briefly darted up to find Derek still looking at him, immediately making them dart away again. “Work…yeah.”

“What do you do?”

Stiles looked up again, surprised by the question, but he was sure that Derek was just trying to be polite, and it looked like it was honestly paining him, but he was doing it all the same. That counted for something, right? “Ah, right now nothing,” he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I got fired from my last job so I’m looking for something new. Nothing yet.”

Derek nodded like he was actually interested, and though Stiles knew he wasn’t, it was somewhat reassuring. Until his next question. “Why did you get fired?”

Shit. “I, uh. Well. I kind of went on an angry rant to a customer about the oppressive governmental system that we live under and the need for dismantling the patriarchy,” he said, and coughed, embarrassed. It hadn’t been his best moment, but honestly, the speech had been quite good even though he’d been making it up on the spot. Well, not entirely. He’d rehearsed small speeches in his head before, just for fun, and had combined a few of them to make the rather long and surprisingly impressive diatribe that had gotten him fired. It was somewhat embarrassing to talk about it with Derek of all people, though.

But Derek laughed. An actual, full laugh, and Stiles dared to look up at him again, finding nothing but amusement in those cerulean eyes. “I didn’t take you for the feminist type,” he said, and Stiles smiled, shrugging his shoulders loosely.

“Yeah, well, surprise,” he said, doing brief jazz hands. Or the sign language for applause, it could have been either. “I don’t really call myself a feminist because everyone should be one.”

“I agree,” Derek said, and Stiles looked up at him with some surprise, which seemed to offend him slightly. “What, just because I’m a tough-looking guy I can’t be one too?”

“No, I just—yeah, no, it’s cool,” Stiles said, ducking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck again.

Derek turned back to the television, seeming amused, and Stiles briefly smiled to himself before going back to his breakfast. It seemed special somehow, that he could amuse Derek just by being himself. Rewarding, was really the word for it, considering Derek didn’t seem like a man who was easily amused, unless he just held it all in under that careful poker face. Really, Stiles would probably never know, so he had to content himself with amusing Derek for the time being.

“So…” he started again after a minute, prompting Derek to turn to him with his eyebrow raised again. Stiles cleared his throat, noting that the amusement was gone because Derek seemed to have reverted back to the careful poker face he usually wore. “What are your plans for the day?”

Derek shrugged, spearing some eggs on his fork. “I don’t have work today, so. I might clean up.”

Stiles nodded, playing with his toast for a minute. “So you don’t mind if I hang out here, then?”

“As long as you don’t get in the way.”

Ah, but getting in the way was what Stiles did best. He had been called a cockblock more times than he could count, especially by Scott. He really didn’t mean to do it, it just kind of happened naturally on its own. There was no real way to control it, though he’d been trying to get better at staying out of Scott’s way in particular. Apparently it worked, considering his roommate was probably currently boning Derek’s roommate. Again.

“I’ll do my best,” he said a bit sarcastically, and took a bite of his toast, turning his eyes back to the depressing news playing across the screen. “How can you even watch this?” he asked after a minute, glancing at Derek again. “It’s so depressing.”

“I like to keep up on what’s going on,” Derek said with a shrug. “Is that a crime?”

“No, no, I was just commenting,” Stiles said, holding up his hands and nearly tipping his plate over in the process. Derek gave him a look that Stiles interpreted as ‘if you waste the breakfast I made you by tipping it onto the floor you will eat it off the floor and then promptly get thrown out of the apartment’. Which wasn’t intimidating in the least, not at all. And totally didn’t make him want to curl up into himself and not come out for a while.

He focused his attention back on his breakfast, eating for a while in silence as they both turned back to the news. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly; maybe a touch awkward simply because Stiles was awkward, but that was about it. He didn’t actually mind the silence with Derek, and Derek seemed totally unaffected by it, so that was good. Though he had a feeling Derek wasn’t affected by much, and definitely not by awkward silences. After all, he didn’t speak much period, so quiet was probably a friend of his by now.

Silence was not Stiles’s friend, though, as he fidgeted where he sat, finishing up his breakfast and only half paying attention to the news that Derek seemed absorbed in, at least until a hand landed on Stiles’s leg, prompting him to stop shifting where he sat. He turned to look at Derek in surprise, who didn’t look at him in return as he said, “Stop moving around, you’re making the whole couch move.”

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbled, focusing on staying still, but Derek’s hand didn’t leave his leg, and he looked down at it for a minute, just sort of staring at it in a moment of confusion, before he started to jiggle his leg up and down, just to see what would happen. The hand squeezed gently and he stopped, noting that, once again, Derek didn’t pull it away. Um. Okay. He could handle that, he supposed. Derek’s hand was warm through the fabric of his sweatpants, a reassuring weight on his leg, and he managed to relax slightly underneath it, perhaps coming more to terms with the fact that Derek wasn’t moving it anytime soon. Not that he minded, exactly. It was just a bit unexpected.

He was starting to get cold again, just on the edge of cool despite the fact that he was wearing a t-shirt and somehow Derek was walking around without a shirt on, though that could possibly be because he seemed to exude heat, becoming his own personal space heater when he needed to be. Or always, it seemed. For Stiles, who always had cold hands and feet, it sounded like the most appealing thing in the world, but he wasn’t about to stick his hands on Derek’s back to warm them up, not when barely touching him had been so poorly received. Yeah, no, not going there. Better to just shiver slightly in silence.

After a minute, he realized that Derek’s eyes were on him, and turned to meet them, his own gaze warm in comparison to the chill of those azure eyes. “…yes?” he said when he was only greeted by silence from Derek, and after a moment, Derek stood, disappearing again into his bedroom. He returned a moment later with a black Henley that he tossed to Stiles, who barely caught it, almost letting it drop into his food. That would have been really, really bad. He looked up at Derek as he sat down, though Derek merely glanced at him before turning back to the TV and picking his plate back up from where he’d set it down.

“You’re cold, right? I could practically feel you shivering.” He ate for a minute as Stiles stared down at the shirt, then turned back to Stiles again, raising his eyebrows. “Are you going to put it on or just look at it?”

Stiles hastened to pull the Henley on, slipping it over his head and instantly starting to warm up from the contact of the soft but thick fabric against his skin. The shirt was definitely too big and hung loosely off of him, a size or two too big, but it was comfortable and warm and smelled good, something earthy and natural in the scent. Something comforting. He had to cuff the sleeves though, rolling them up a bit to form thick cuffs around his wrists because otherwise he’d dip them into his food every time he went in for a bite, and the last thing—absolute last—that he wanted was to dirty a shirt that Derek had so graciously loaned him. That certainly wouldn’t make the man warm up towards him any more.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, realizing that a silence had fallen between them while Derek watched Stiles put the shirt on and Stiles fastidiously rolled up the sleeves like a little kid trying on his dad’s clothes. He offered Derek a smile, and fancied he saw the corner of Derek’s mouth lift for just a second in a half smile. What he definitely _didn’t_ imagine was the way that Derek’s eyes raked over him in the shirt before he turned away again, back to the TV. That was…Well. Okay. Stiles focused on his food again, finishing up his meal pretty quickly and setting his plate down, leaning back against the couch as he adjusted his sleeves again. No matter what he did they ended up sliding back down over his hands, and eventually he gave up, pulling them up over his hands and holding them there, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Seems kind of cruel for Scott to kick you out without a sweatshirt or something,” Derek commented after a minute, and Stiles shrugged, resting back against the couch.

“I think he was more concerned with making sure he had condoms than making sure that I had everything I needed. He at least made sure I had my pillow, so there’s that, I guess.” He groaned, realizing something, and dropped his head back against the couch. “Crap, I left my phone charging in my room.”

“Do you really need it? You’re going to be here for most of the day.”

“Most of the day?” Stiles asked, lifting his head again to look at Derek. “You really think they’re going to spend the day together?”

“Cuddler,” was Derek’s short answer, and Stiles groaned, dropping his head back again.

“Why couldn’t I have the roommate who _wasn’t_ like an overenthusiastic puppy when it came to relationships?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, your roommate is like a puppy? Have you seen Isaac?”

Stiles nodded, lifting his head again. “Fair point, there. I’ve never seen someone so baby-faced before. He looks like he’s sixteen.”

“Acts like it sometimes too,” Derek said, finishing his last bite and placing his plate down on the ground. “He makes more bad decisions than I can count.”

“Ah, yeah, sounds like me,” Stiles murmured, running a hand through his hair somewhat uncomfortably, the sleeve temporarily slipping off of his hand.

“Do you think this was a bad decision?”

He turned to look at Derek, brow furrowing over his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked, confused and somewhat surprised by the question.

“Coming here,” Derek said, gesturing a bit at the apartment around them. “Staying here last night instead of finding a friend to stay with.”

“Why would that be a bad decision?” Stiles asked, still bemused as he looked at Derek, puzzled by the whole thing, this line of conversation.

“Because…” Derek seemed…nervous? Was that the right word for it? Taking a deep breath to steady himself, looking down before his eyes flashed back up to Stiles. “Stay still.”

“Why—”

He didn’t get the rest of his sentence out as Derek leaned forward to kiss him, just a gentle press of lips against lips, and everything suddenly stopped. He stopped speaking, stopped thinking, and almost stopped breathing, chest moving in shallow dips as both his breathing and heartrate picked up speed in tandem, suddenly deciding that they needed to be faster because Jesus Derek’s lips were softer than he’d thought they’d be. Not that he’d thought about Derek’s lips much and whether they were soft or not—okay, who was he kidding? Yeah, he’d thought about it. More than he should have. But now that he was actually faced with it, he froze up, lips unresponsive under Derek’s as the other man kissed him with what felt like a carefully tethered passion. His brain was screaming at him to react, to do something, _anything_ , but he just couldn’t. He was frozen in place, paralyzed by the unexpected contact.

After a few moments in which his heart thudded loudly in his chest, Derek started to pull away, clearly thinking that Stiles didn’t want this and was just too shocked to pull away, and a rush of panic went through Stiles, forcing him into action. He reached out and grabbed hold of Derek, hands on either side of his face as he pulled him back in, kissing him back with lips that were suddenly quite responsive, jumpstarted by the thought of losing a kiss with the neighbor that he’d been crushing on for months and had only just now admitted that he was crushing on. Well, internally admitted to it, while externally making it very clear that he was interested, because this was an opportunity he’d never forgive himself for passing up.

They kissed for a minute in a breathless silence, keeping it mostly chaste, though it started to devolve into steady, slow brushes of tongues against lower lips, then against each other, Stiles parting his lips in an invitation that Derek happily took. The exploration only lasted for a minute, though, as Stiles pulled away soon, resting a hand on Derek’s chest that he’d been dying to touch since he first saw Derek with his shirt off.

“Definitely not a bad decision,” he breathed, and was rewarded with a chuckle from Derek before the other man leaned in for another kiss.


End file.
